Plague

Chapter Twenty

Midnight stillness surrounded the small Iranian village of Hamzeh Qasem. Outside the Mazanderani house, soldiers lined the street. Awaiting a signal, they prepared to burst in the door.

Inside, Mahasti Mazanderani slept peacefully. At age fourteen, she remained with her parents. Her sister, BahAr, traveled to San Francisco. Mahasti considered her lucky. Unhappy at home, she wished to flee as her sister had. Her father was too strict, her mother too placid. Like her sister, she longed for freedom.

Mahasti had not seen her older brother in three years. Her father proudly proclaimed that Arastoo worked for the Ayatollah. Gulzar Mazanderani expressed his great admiration for his only son. A notice from the Great Leader of Iran seemed highly significant. Around the small village, her father proclaimed the family's good fortune.

Dreaming of following BahAr to America, Mahasti lay back against her pillow and stared at the low ceiling. Then, a sudden crashing sound shook the house. The girl screamed and leaped to her feet.

As she screamed, a soldier burst through the door. With wide eyes, the youngest Mazanderani daughter stared at him. He petrified her. He grabbed her arm and roughly pulled her into the main room. Her father stood amid the armed soldiers; her mother clung to his side.

"What is the meaning of this?" Gulzar indignantly demanded. His face glowed red with fury.

"Where is your son Arastoo?" the leader questioned in return.

"My son is on a secret mission. The Ayatollah gave him a special assignment," the Mazanderani patriarch returned. His chest puffed out in pride. "Leave my house and my family in peace."

"The Ayatollah has never heard the name Arastoo Mazanderani," the officer sneered, poking his assault rifle into Gulzar's protruding stomach.

"I tell you..." the father began again.

Mahasti backed against the wall. Fearfully, she watched the scene unfold. Her scared eyes captured the commotion. Did the soldier intend to kill her father?

Hastily, the soldiers rushed the family outside. Two vans waited outside the house. Prodding them with their assault rifles, they pushed Gulzar into the lead one. Anahita and Mahasti entered the second.

Embarrassed, Mahasti pushed her long black hair behind her ears. Remaining in her nightdress, she felt naked without her hijab. Fearfully, she glanced at her mother. Dressed in similar attire, Anahita also did not wear her head covering.

Tears glistened in Anahita Mazanderani's golden eyes. She felt ashamed of being forced from her home. The faces of her friends gawked at the family as the soldiers paraded them outside. Many were long-time acquaintances, even old school friends. As soon as the vans disappeared, the gossip would begin. Anahita shrunk against the cold metal bench she sat on.

Mahasti grasped her mother's hands. She wanted to comfort her but could not form the words. Trembling, she leaned against her mother and cried.

******

"I tell you, my son works for the Ayatollah," Gulzar shouted, slamming his fist into his open palm. "How many times must I tell you."

"Your son, Arastoo, is responsible for the plague outbreak," the military officer remarked. Grasping the arms of Mazanderani's chair, he leaned menacingly over him. "Get it through your thick head. The Ayatollah does not know your son. The Ayatollah never sent your son on a mission."

Gulzar hung his head in shame. He had taught his son to follow Mohammad. He thought of himself as a gentle father. Sure, he expected much from his son. He expected his family to obey him. His brilliant son studied chemistry and excelled. His wife and two daughters were demure and submissive. Never did he detect either fanatism or rebellion.